


A Snake and His Snacks

by lola_lollipop_girl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Chubby Crowley, M/M, Other, Stuffing, Weight Gain, in every sense, theyre BOTH chubby bc they BOTH deserve it, this is definitely a kink fic but also its just... soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 23:56:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20573045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola_lollipop_girl/pseuds/lola_lollipop_girl
Summary: When Aziraphale struggles to fit into a sweater Crowley bought for him, he needs a little reassurance. Fortunately, Crowley is more than happy to give it to him. Crowley loves Aziraphale's softer frame. . . in fact, he loves it so much, he decides to get a bit softer himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I 100% love and appreciate (canonically!!!) chubby Aziraphale with all my heart, but I am SO weak for mutual gaining and there's not nearly enough content with chubby Crowley out there so here we are! 
> 
> Originally I thought about writing something where Crowley gains some weight unintentionally but then I figured with Aziraphale around he might have to put a bit more effort in ;)
> 
> (And in reference to the title Aziraphale is ABSOLUTELY one of the snacks)

“Oh, dear. . .” 

Crowley could hear Aziraphale sighing to himself through the bathroom door. “What’s the matter, angel?” he called. His lips twisted into a wicked grin. “Need some help?”

  
  
“Anthony J. Crowley, you will stay right where you are,” came the stern reply. “I won’t have you gawking at me in this state of indecency.”

  
  
Crowley snorted. Even though they had been living together for months, Aziraphale still made him turn around if he so much as loosened his bowtie. By the next decade, perhaps Crowley would be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale’s forearms, or maybe even a bit of ankle.

There was another soft cry of distress from the bathroom, and Crowley sat up straighter on the edge of the bed, his fingers digging into the mattress. “Aziraphale—”

“Oh, I’m fine, darling. Don’t worry.” Aziraphale’s voice instantly put Crowley at ease. “It’s only—” Aziraphale paused for a moment. “Well, perhaps it would be better show you, but— but_ do_ promise you won’t tease,” he added imploringly. 

“No teasing.”

  
  
The door opened partially, and Aziraphale’s head peeked out. His flushed cheeks and slightly tousled hair made him look adorably flustered. “And you’re quite sure you won’t poke fun?” 

Crowley, recognizing the note of genuine nervousness in Aziraphale’s voice, nodded. “Swear on my life, angel. Promise.” 

Aziraphale’s cheeks burned brighter. “Oh. . . very well, then,” he said, sidling out of the bathroom. “I—I’m afraid it doesn’t fit quite right. . .”

Aziraphale was wearing the new sweater Crowley had just bought for him— a thick, soft woolen thing in a lovely sky blue that matched his eyes— and, as the angel had said, it didn’t fit. It clung to him like sausage casing, emphasizing the rounded curve of his stomach and the slight bulge of love handles around his hips. Despite Aziraphale’s best efforts, it kept riding up and exposing a pale strip of skin around his lower belly. 

Aziraphale had always been plump, but he had gotten even chubbier after living with Crowley for the past few months. Crowley adored his soft, pampered angel and loved to indulge him in every way possible, taking him out for extravagant meals, buying him decadent desserts anytime they walked past a bakery, and always making sure there were all kinds of tempting treats around for Aziraphale to snack on whenever he got peckish. Aziraphale, for his part, plainly loved being doted on, and made no effort to keep Crowley from spoiling him.

Aziraphale hadn’t even seemed to have noticed his weight gain, but he definitely noticed the way the sweater strained over his stomach. “And I was _so_ looking forward to wearing this today,” Aziraphale sighed, crestfallen. He gave the sweater another futile tug, then put a hand on his belly.“Perhaps if I didn’t eat so much. . .” 

Crowley’s mouth had practically started to water, but he forced himself to ignore the heady wave of lust for Aziraphale’s sake. His poor angel clearly needed some comforting. He pushed himself off the bed and began to circle Aziraphale slowly, his hungry eyes taking in every detail. 

In spite of his embarrassment, Aziraphale managed a small, bashful smile. He always loved it when Crowley circled around him. “What do you think, dear?” 

“It’sssss tight,” Crowley admitted, unable to restrain a small hiss as he ran his hands down Aziraphale’s sides to smooth out the sweater. “But that’s nothing to get your wings in a twist over.” He kneeled down so the hem of the sweater was level with his eyes— and so was Aziraphale’s belly. It was all he could do to keep his tongue from flicking out to lick his lips. “A little miracle could fix it right up for you.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled the way they always did when he knew Crowley was about to give him exactly what he wanted. “Oh, would you?”

Crowley leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss onto Aziraphale’s stomach before miracling the sweater larger. “There,” he said, rising to his full height. “How’s that, angel?” 

“It’s perfect!” Aziraphale beamed and wrapped his arms around Crowley, nuzzling his face between the demon’s neck and shoulder. “Thank you ever so much, darling.” 

There were a million things Crowley loved about being hugged by Aziraphale. The angel’s downy curls tickled his neck, his breath was warm against Crowley’s skin, and he smelled faintly of old books and freshly-baked pastries. Crowley loved the feeling of being held and cherished, though he would sooner rip his own tongue out than admit it out loud, and he loved knowing that he made Aziraphale happy. 

Crowley pulled the angel closer, almost whimpering when Aziraphale’s pudgy belly pressed against his lean torso. His eyes went greedily to the angel’s stomach, his fingers itching to pinch and squeeze. There might have also been some less-than-wholesome things he liked about being hugged. 

Aziraphale gave a sigh of contentment and allowed Crowley to hold him for another moment before moving away. He smiled, but something in his expression seemed unsure. “Would you like to give me a kiss, dear?”

“_What I wouldn’t like to do to you_,” Crowley thought.

Aziraphale began fiddling with his pinkie ring, a nervous habit. “Just to be sure. . .” 

Crowley leaned forward, lifting his hands to cradle Aziraphale’s face as their lips met. “Sure of what, angel?” he said when they broke away.   
  
“Oh, well. . .” Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair. “I know you’ll think I’m being silly, but I was worried about how unattractive I must have looked before you fixed the sweater.” He half-laughed, embarrassed. “Of course, you had beenso lovely and reassuring to me already—”

“Lovely?!” Crowley interjected, outraged. He wanted to comfort Aziraphale, of course, but he had his pride. “I have _limits_, you know.” Aziraphale just frowned at Crowley in silence until he gave in with a groan. “Go on.”

Aziraphale straightened his bowtie. “Well, if you’ll deign to listen to me,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I was going to say that I. . .” He paused for a moment, avoiding Crowley’s eyes. “I suppose I wanted to be kissed as a reminder that you love me regardless of how I look.” 

“What are you on about?” The suggestion that he didn’t find Aziraphale attractive was so absurd that the words came out sounding sharper than Crowley had intended. He caressed Aziraphale’s cheek and added in a softer tone: “You know I like your corporation. What makes you think I don’t?”

“It’s not your fault, darling,” said Aziraphale, placing his hand over Crowley’s. “I know that you like it. I do, too, most of the time.” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley knew it was genuine, but hearing him say ‘most of the time’ still broke his heart. “But I’m sure even you can admit that the sweater wasn’t exactly flattering when I first tried it on.” 

“Why not?” There was a combative edge to Crowley’s voice. 

Aziraphale started tugging on the edge of the sweater, even though it fit perfectly after Crowley’s miracle. “You know why.” He sucked in his stomach for a moment before releasing it with a sigh. “I— I’m soft.” 

Crowley kissed Aziraphale on both cheeks, making the angel smile in spite of himself. “Yes, you are.” He put his hands on Aziraphale’s belly, giving it a slight squeeze. “And I love it.”  
  
Aziraphale blushed. “Oh! Well. . .” He smiled shyly and ducked his head, emphasizing his adorable double chin. “Thank you. I feel much better now.” 

“You shouldn’t ever be upset about it,” said Crowley fiercely, his hands digging into Aziraphale’s pudge. The angel gave a little gasp, so Crowley loosened his grip, stepping back. “Anyone who doesn’t like it is out of their minds,” he said, scowling at the ground. “Wanting everyone to be all. . . skin and bones.” 

Aziraphale laughed, reaching out to caress Crowley’s cheek. “You’re all skin and bones, and I quite like you.” 

Crowley frowned, thinking. His naturally slim, serpentine figure was certainly quite attractive, but. . . he thought of how _erotic_ it was, seeing Aziraphale all but bursting out of that sweater, and imagined himself spilling out of his fashionably tight clothes.

  
“But you don’t like me_ because_ I’m skin and bones,” he said to Aziraphale. Although Crowley’s voice was steady and confident— he was almost completely certain that Aziraphale would agree— he still couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. For a creature as vain as Crowley, not being found attractive was a frightening prospect. “You’d like me even I looked. . . different than I do now.”

“Well, of course!” Aziraphale sounded surprised. “It feels like every time I’ve seen you, you’ve done something new to your hair. And, of course, you_ do _look rather different as a snake. . .” 

Crowley couldn’t help but smile. “I always knew you were only in it for my scales.” 

Aziraphale laughed, and all Crowley’s doubts were put at ease. He decided that he would get softer, just to see if he liked it or not. There was no harm in trying it out for a little bit— if it turned out that he didn’t like it, he could simply shape-shift back to his starting size. 

It occurred to Crowley that he could shape-shift himself larger, too, but where was the fun in that?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was considering titling this chapter "Anthony Just Let Me Fucking Eat Already Crowley" but I decided against it since I never came up with name for the first chapter oops

A couple months later, Crowley was heavily wishing he had gone the shapeshifting route. 

Gaining weight turned out to be harder than he expected, not least of all because of a certain plump, spoiled angel who was very unaccustomed to sharing his snacks. Crowley would constantly tell himself that_ this time_, he was going to finish a meal_ and _have dessert at dinner, but one pout from Aziraphale, and his resolve would melt away faster than ice cream on asphalt. Crowley couldn’t even feel that disappointed as he pushed his plate across the table— even if his stomach stayed empty, his heart was full whenever Aziraphale smiled. 

Getting to hear the angel’s moans of delight as he ate didn’t hurt, either. 

After a few weeks of dithering, Crowley resorted to stuffing himself in secret whenever Aziraphale wasn’t around. He forced down as much food as he could possibly hold, until his stomach was tight and aching, its round, distended shape sticking out obscenely from the rest of his slim frame. He didn’t bother picking food for its flavor or quality, only the calorie count— he snatched up anything fatty, or greasy, or sugary with abandon, hardly even tasting it as he crammed it down his throat.

Unlike Aziraphale, who always managed to make gluttony look so genteel, dining on the finest cuisine with the finest of manners, Crowley liked making a mess. By the end of his stuffing sessions, he was always sticky, and sweaty, and covered in crumbs, with stains around his mouth and smeared on his belly where he had been smacking or grabbing it. He lay sprawled out on his couch, surrounded by discarded wrappers, and basked in his filthy, hedonistic pleasure.

Crowley wondered how he would actually end up looking, when all was said and done. Although he woudn’t mind filling out evenly, like Aziraphale, who was soft and round all over, he hoped he would end up more bottom-heavy, with wide hips, plush thighs, and a fat ass in addition to a chubbier belly. 

Unfortunately, even after stuffing himself to the brim night after night, Crowley still remained frustratingly thin at first. He supposed since he had been so skinny to begin with, it might take a while to get properly soft, but that was little consolation. He didn’t want to get fat _eventually_— he wanted to be fat _now_.

When all the stuffings finally started to show results— the slightest hint of pudge around his stomach— Crowley was thrilled. He began to poke and prod at his newfound softness, then thought of how much better it would feel if Aziraphale was touching him. Crowley was so turned on and embarassed by the thought of asking Aziraphale to touch his belly that he turned into a snake so he could slither under the bed and try to hide from his feelings, as well as the heated blush starting to flare across his face. 

Crowley might have lingered there a bit too long, because when Aziraphale returned from the bookshop, he was still coiled up on the ground. 

“Crowley, dear?” Aziraphale’s voice was gentle and concerned. He knew Crowley sometimes liked to take naps in his snake form, but he only hid under the furniture when something was wrong. “Are you alright?” 

Crowley poked his head out from the shadows and gave Aziraphale a little hiss to show that he was fine. 

  
Aziraphale smiled, relieved. “Oh, very good.” He kneeled down so he and Crowley were closer to eye level and held out his hand invitingly. Crowley laid his head on top of Aziraphale’s palm, letting out a long hiss of satisfaction as the angel began to scratch his head with his other hand. “I hope you didn’t get too cold down there. . . Should I fetch that heated blanket for you, darling? I know you’re quite partial to it.” 

  
Aziraphale let Crowley sleep for the rest of the night, but, in the morning, he expected to be told what had upset him to the point of hiding under the bed. 

“You know we don’t keep secrets, darling,” said Aziraphale, gentle even in reproach. He entwined his fingers with Crowley’s. “What happened?” 

There was no way in Hell Crowley was telling the_ entire _truth, but he figured he could admit to part of it. “Do I look any different to you?”  
  
“Well. . .” Aziraphale hesitated for a moment. “Perhaps it’s only my imagination, but your face does look a little softer around the edges,” he admitted. “It’s quite handsome, really.”

Crowley had been so focused on his stomach, he hadn’t even thought to look at his face. It was an exciting, if unexpected, development, and Aziraphale thought it was _handsome_. “You like it, then?” asked Crowley, fighting to keep his tone nonchalant. 

“Oh, yes! Ever so much!” Aziraphale beamed. “It’s not that I didn’t like the way it looked before, of course,” he rushed to clarify. “And, perhaps it’s strange of me to say this, but you look. . . happier this way,” he said, lifting his hand to caress Crowley’s cheek. “Not as pinched and hollow.” He met Crowley’s eyes with a shy smile. “_Are_ you happier, darling?” 

Crowley answered with a kiss, only pulling back when Aziraphale started to get breathless. Even if he didn’t actually_ need_ to breathe, Crowley didn’t want to make his angel uncomfortable. He felt a vague twinge of guilt. He also didn’t want to make his angel uncomfortable by bringing up the fact that he was trying to get fat on purpose. Somehow, the intentionality seemed to be taking things too far— it was one thing to gain weight, and quite another to_ make _yourself gain weight, and he wasn’t sure how Aziraphale would react to that. 

Even as Crowley continued to hide his stuffing sessions, it became harder and harder to hide the results. His belly began to stick out even when it was empty, and yanking his pants on took a minor miracle each morning. Crowley swore he could feel himself_ jiggling_ as he walked, his sauntering stride only exacerbating the sensation. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t even _imagine _how great it would feel to be Aziraphale’s size. . . or more. 

Aziraphale was too polite to come out and say anything, but Crowley knew he had to have noticed. Sometimes, when they were having dinner, Crowley would catch Aziraphale staring at his near-empty plate, half-quizzical and half-frustrated, as if wondering how Crowley could be getting larger while still eating so little. Crowley would just smirk and offer Aziraphale a tidbit off his plate, knowing that he would sate himself later. 

On one particularly lazy day, Crowley dedicated himself to committing all seven deadly sins with the least amount of effort possible. For the most part, he lazed about on the couch watching _Golden Girls _reruns— sloth— while steadily plowing his way through so many bags of junk food that it surely counted for both greed_ and _gluttony, while being lustfully aroused by his own swollen belly. 

Crowley decided to yell at his plants to check wrath off his list, but the moment he stood up, he promptly sank back down on the couch, moaning and cradling his gut. He hadn’t realized how full and heavy he had gotten until he tried to stand up and felt it all sloshing and churning around inside him. Back to lust, then. Eventually, Crowley settled for berating the plants from a comfortable distance.

Crowley had been envious before even starting his little game; a long, lingering gaze at Aziraphale’s ass as he set off for the bookshop in the morning accomplished that. It wasn’t even fair, honestly, to have an ass like that and cover it up with those drab brown pants and that long, shapeless coat he’d been wearing since the fucking_ regency_. In Crowley’s book, that was the most unforgivable sin of all. 

As for pride, Crowley was certainly quite proud of himself for being able to do so much glorious nothing in such a sexy, sinful way, and he was sure he would be even prouder if he managed to eat just a little more. It had been almost an hour since he had really eaten anything— the chips he was absentmindedly munching were just a snack, that didn’t count— and he thought of how good it would feel to be, not just full, but _stuffed_. 

Crowley glanced at the clock; less than an hour until Aziraphale would close up the bookshop. He probably shouldn’t. Crowley grinned. He_ definitely_ would. He did, and so he was wrist-deep in a tub of ice cream when Aziraphale showed up, more than twenty minutes earlier than expected.   
  
“Crowley, I’m—” Aziraphale paused, taking in the mess of containers and wrappers littering the floor. “Oh, dear.” 

Crowley tried to sit up, but the weight of his gut pinned him down. “Angel. Didn’t see you there,” he grunted, doing his best to sound seductive while also trying not to puke. “I didn’t think you’d be back until— _brp_— later.” 

“Someone had the audacity to try and purchase one of my first editions, if you can believe it!” Aziraphale’s voice was heated. “It was such an unpleasant encounter, I simply had to close early, and— oh!” Aziraphale’s face went red. He had just noticed Crowley’s distended belly, which was on full display since putting a shirt on had not struck Crowley as very lusty or slothful. “Oh, dear. Are— are you sick? Is something wrong?”  


Crowley began to sit up more slowly. This second attempt was more successful than the first, though he was not sitting so much as slumped in a vaguely upright position. Still, he could see Aziraphale’s face. The angel looked concerned but not horrified. Crowley supposed that was fair. “Not sick,” he said. “Just. . . stuffed.” 

The flush on Aziraphale’s cheeks deepened as he surveyed the heaps of trash scattered around the living room with new understanding. Then he shook his head. “Well, I can’t say I’m pleased with all this,” he said briskly, miracling the mess away with a wave of his hand. “If you were going to eat yourself sick, you might well have found something_ tasteful _to do it with.” He gave a judgmental sniff as Crowley licked at a bit of melted ice cream that had started dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ll give you twenty minutes to clean yourself up, but, after that, I’m taking you out for gelato so you can see what a_ real_ dessert tastes like.” 

Crowley’s mouth fell open. “_That’s _what you’re upset about?” 

Aziraphale huffed. “Well, I didn’t appreciate the mess you made, either, but it was easy enough to miracle away.” 

“What about _this_?” Crowley grabbed his belly, his face almost as red as his hair. “Y—you’re not— you— you don’t—”

Aziraphale’s expression softened. “My dear boy.” He set a gentle hand on Crowley’s stomach and began tracing comforting circles with his fingertips. Crowley let out a low moan, but Aziraphale was kind enough not to comment on it. “You certainly have grown a bit lately, there’s no denying that.” He gave Crowley a soft kiss on the cheek, then smiled, making his plump cheeks look even rounder than usual as his whole face shone with sweetness and sincerity. “But you’re every inch my dearest Crowley. Why would I ever be upset about that?” 

Crowley tried to writhe around so his back was to Aziraphale and the angel wouldn’t see the annoying tears in his eyes that just _loved _to show up whenever Aziraphale said something nice to him, but his bloated belly made movement of any kind difficult. 

  
“It’s alright, dear. Don’t be ashamed.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft in Crowley’s ear, his fingers gentle as they stroked his hair. “You’re not used to being loved. It can be hard for you, I know. I understand. . .” 

Aziraphale _did_ understand, which only made the tears come faster. If anyone deserved love, it was the kind, wonderful, beautiful angel beside him, and yet it seemed like no one but Crowley could recognize that. He turned and clung to Aziraphale, pulling the angel as close as he could possibly get. “I love you.”

There was a catch in Aziraphale’s breathing, and, for a moment, Crowley was terrified he had gone too far. They had said “I love you” before, but what if—

Aziraphale’s soft lips pressed against the top of his head, chasing away his fear like a shadow disappearing beneath the sunlight. “I love you, too.” 

They sat like that for a while, before Aziraphale eventually moved back. He stood up, then extended a hand to Crowley, smiling. “The clock is ticking. You had better get up fast if you want to get that gelato.” 

Crowley groaned, slumping further back onto the couch. “I don’t think I can eat anymore. Not for another century.”  
  
Aziraphale laughed. “Not with that attitude, perhaps. Come on, now.” He held out both hands and Crowley took them, allowing the angel to heave him off the couch. Crowley received a kiss on the cheek for his trouble. “Very good, dear. Now, let’s get you dressed. It’s very warm in Italy this time of year, so perhaps something light—” 

“Opposite of what I’m going for,” Crowley joked, putting a hand on his belly. 

“So you _were_ trying to put on weight!” There was a gleam of triumph in Aziraphale’s eyes. “I thought so, but I wasn’t sure. You weren’t eating at all when I was around.”   
  
“And whose fault is that?” Crowley retorted, raising an eyebrow. 

  
Aziraphale flushed, but his response was playfully defiant. “You’re hardly wasting away. Still, now that I know what you’re trying to accomplish. . .” Aziraphale’s eyes lingered on Crowley’s stomach, and he smiled before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be sure to take_ very_ good care of you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this! If you feel comfortable, please leave a comment! I would really appreciate it <3


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